Numb the Pain
by suspensegirl
Summary: Chuck's POV on the texts & calls exchanged with Blair in 1x11. Oneshot. She was an addiction and there was no way he was going to give her up.


A/N: Another oneshot! Lol. I swear after this one I'll focus mostly on the multi-chaptered fics. Really. Lol. This particular oneshot is about Chuck's thoughts during the whole text exchange in 1x11 "Roman Holiday".

……………………………………………………………………………

_**Monaco, huh? Anything I need to know?**_

_**-B**_

He sighed.

_Not particularly._

Blair Waldorf had screwed with him and he wasn't looking back. If she wanted Nate back, she was going to have to sacrifice every fiber of her being—including possibly telling him of her dirty deeds with his best friend in the last week or so.

"Ahh," the content sigh came from the now opened bathroom door, and a Nate Archibald with a fluffy, white towel wrapped around his waist came from the brightened room. He nodded to Chuck as he headed for his suitcase of clothes.

"Good shower?" Chuck asked, his thumb hovering over Blair's text, should Nate decide to wander over and find a sudden interest in his best friend's communication device.

"The best," he nodded, his wet pasted bangs moving ever so slightly across his forehead. "Bass knows how to do luxury."

Chuck smirked. Wasn't _that_ the truth.

Nate found a comfortable position on the couch, once his clothes were comfortably fitted to him. The brunette lowered his thumb and zoomed in on the message.

_God, he wished she was actually concerned for him._

There was more than one benefit in dragging Nate to Monaco for Christmas though. True, it would mess with Blair and make her paranoid to an unhealthy degree, or to Chuck—healthy. But this had its advantages. He would get to receive her texts…hear her voice on his answer machine…the messages he would never erase. This is the Chuck Bass no one ever saw, and now she wouldn't either. It didn't mean he couldn't cherish what they had. If things went his way it would become what they have.

Hopefully.

The other benefit to calling Nate over to vacation with him—only days after Chuck had left—was to prevent Chuck from whoring it up with all the hotel maids, most of the time at least. Everywhere he looked he saw Blair Waldorf, and every time he saw Blair Waldorf he saw Nate and Blair heading into an empty room. They were _back together_. It was practically official, and his butterflies were practically eating him alive.

It could've been _Blair_ with him in Monaco instead of _Nate_. True, they'd have to be rather inconspicuous, but it would've been worth it. She had tainted him, dipped him into the pool of almost—dare he say it—love, intentionally or not. He couldn't reverse it if he tried, and Nate was oblivious. That was a _good_ thing, for now at least.

Chuck hated lying to Nate about how he felt and what he had done. He never wanted Nate to know about what had happened between him and his ex-girlfriend. It might sever their friendship. But, as far as what he would do behind the scenes? _All Blair_. She was an addiction and there was no way he was going to give her up.

…………………………………………………………

He wished he could see the look on her face now. He bet she was gaping. After all, who _wouldn't_ after a text like _that_?

_**Only 1 question, how'd you fake your virginity for N?**_

__He was rather proud of himself for how perfectly he had phrased the question. It was a challenge, as it always was between them. She wouldn't see how much he was hurting. It would all be a game.

His phone beeped with a new text from her.

He smirked, enjoying the little battle they had going on. He was actually getting a thrill from this all, and was quite positive from her words that she was nowhere close.

_**Don't act above it all, ass. You're as guilty as I am.**_

_Not bad, Waldorf, _he thought_. _Though he did expect better, knowing her track record, this was weak at best.

He exited the screen and shut his phone. He wasn't battling this out anymore with her. It wasn't as if he was actually busy. That would never be the problem concerning a certain feisty brunette. Nate was even out, he could be whoring it up with one of the sluts roaming the hotel if he wanted. But no, he was fighting with his non-ex-girlfriend about something that didn't even have a name. Even fighting seemed an irrelevant description of their witty remarks.

Now, he'd make her beg. Enter _Phase 2_. If she wanted to get through to him she'd have to start talking to him. He bet she didn't even know Nate was with him yet and that was a laugh, knowing Chuck as well as she did.

His phone rang.

He didn't pick it up, blaming it on shock as how quick it had come or sudden lack of hearing.

It rang again and again and again. Then, it stopped.

**1 Missed Call: Blair Waldorf.**

Smirk.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

_"Ugh," she scoffs, "Chuck, you are not answering my calls, to torture me I am sure, but please, for the love of god, do not tell anybody about us. Okay? Please? __**Please**__."_

End call.

"To replay this message, press—"

He shut his phone, deciding not to listen to the other eight messages from her…for a _third_ time.

She was getting desperate. Now it wasn't just Nate, it was _anybody_. Not that it hadn't been _everybody_ before, but she was certainly becoming more insistent in her pleas.

He looked over to see Nate snoozing on the bed across the room. For someone who claimed to have a lot of energy, he sure did wipe out rather quickly.

Chuck pushed aside the thought that his best friend was still worn out from his first and most recent rendezvous with that pretty brunette trying to get through to _him_. It was certainly the excuse _he_ would have used. The little vixen was anything but calm in the bedroom, feisty was more like it. And he loved that he had brought it out of her. If his best friend had slept with her before _he_ ever did, he probably wouldn't be so insistent to be with her now. It annoyed him to shreds how much he talked details about that night, figuring Chuck would want them all since he spotted them heading into the '_lair' _at Cotillion.

He pressed replay.

The sound of her voice was music to his ears. Her every sigh. Every huff. Every whine and frustrating noise she made took him back to when it was _them_. To when he hadn't manipulated the situation. To when she hadn't jumped to conclusions.

Sigh.

"_Do not tell anybody about us_."

That's how ashamed she was of _them_, of _him_. She didn't want _anyone_ to know. She wanted to _forget_ it happened, and if it was proven—she would call it a _mistake_, she would call _them_ a mistake. The thoughts, the words, they cut him to the bone, and he shut his phone again…her voice still ringing in his ears. He would never forget.

…………………………………………………………………………

Christmas morning—_early_—and he hadn't slept a wink. All he could think of was her. Her laugh, her smile, her moans when he kissed her, her screams when he pounded into her, the way his arms fit so perfectly around her waist. Her deep brown eyes, her glistening, tempting ruby-red lips. The quirk of her eyebrows, the sway of her hair, the fact of how he had taught her everything she knew in the sexual department gave him a bigger ego than bagging all the suitable women on the Upper East Side, in the world either.

Nate groaned beside him, turning his head towards the other direction on his pillow.

His heart was pounding and the fury built inside him.

She had tried to outwit him.

She had called, and begged for him to keep their secrets to himself.

_"It's over. For good."_

She couldn't have been more clear, but god, how it tortured him.

If he could go back, if he could erase time and fix things with her…he would have. No one would have to know that Chuck Bass, bad boy of the UES, had gone after a girl and apologized. He could have any girl he wanted, but now he only wanted one. The others didn't matter and they would never fully satisfy, not if he repeated the action or called in multiple girls at once.

He would do it, for sure. Anything to numb the pain, to keep up appearances.

There was so much pressure and frustration and fury threatening to explode within him. He almost told Nate right then, just to hurt her. But he couldn't. He wouldn't go to that extreme—he didn't think he would…it would tear him apart too. What gain would there be anyways? He had already lost Blair, and if this was let out and Nate found out about him being a _key_ role in the act, he would lose _him_ too. It wasn't as if Blair would come running back to him.

He was just a mistake.

An end result to a drunken night, full of stripping at a speakeasy and misguided decisions. She wasn't in her right mind. She was hurt by how much Nate had hurt her when all she did was continue to give him second chances. Chuck didn't mean anything to Blair. He had always been her boyfriend's best friend. And sure they knew each other, they shared their witty banter, they understood and schemed and manipulated…and smirked about it.

But Chuck and Blair wouldn't work regardless.

That's what was going through Blair Waldorf's mind, he was sure. He could hear it in her voice, he could see it in her texts. She was annoyed and fearful of what he would do. She thought he would just _get over her_ like he'd gotten over everything else.

But this was different. This was like his father's ignorance and disapproval.

It wouldn't go away, and he would always hold on.

_**Don't worry B, who would I tell?**_

__He smirked, and his fury melted. The picture he attached would get to her. Then she would be 100% sure Nate had been with him and she wouldn't know if he would say anything before they got back. She knew he'd hold it over her head though. For as long as he wanted.

If she obeyed the rules maybe she'd see how good they were for each other.

_Not that he'd ever apologize_.

…………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: Ok, so I know the scenes are short, but it's just meant to be Chuck's reactions and motivations for the text/calls with Blair throughout 1x11. We never got to see Chuck except in that picture at the end, and it made me sad. Please review!


End file.
